


The Depth and the Breadth and the Height

by phdmama



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, And like a lot to cram into under 3000 words, Depression, Getting Together, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Hopeful Ending, It's really got an optimistic ending, Long-Term Relationship(s), Loss of Parent(s), M/M, The fic demanded it, Therapy, This sounds dark, Vignettes, i didn't want to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 18:27:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phdmama/pseuds/phdmama
Summary: "What do you need?"Over the course of a life together, the answer to that question changes.





	The Depth and the Breadth and the Height

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a Wordplay prompt challenge that a group of us are participating in for the prompt "Need". To read the amazing fics that were written by the others on this prompt, [click here](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/need/works), and to see all fics written as part of the challenge, [click here](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/wordplay_fic_challenge/works) or find the masterpost for this year’s challenge [here](https://wordplayfics.tumblr.com/post/175608230403/wordplay-2018-every-week-a-prompt-is-chosen-using).
> 
> Please read the tags! This is a short fic that tackles a lot. Please see the end notes for more comments.
> 
> Because life got in the way, this fic is not beta'd, meaning even more than usual, the words and the errors are mine!

_How Do I Love Thee? (Sonnet 43)_  
_Elizabeth Barrett Browning_

_How do I love thee? Let me count the ways._  
_I love thee to the depth and breadth and height_  
_My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight_  
_For the ends of being and ideal grace._  
_I love thee to the level of every day’s_  
_Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light._  
_I love thee freely, as men strive for right._  
_I love thee purely, as they turn from praise._  
_I love thee with the passion put to use_  
_In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith._  
_I love thee with a love I seemed to lose_  
_With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,_  
_Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,_  
_I shall but love thee better after death._

 

**_1._ **

“What do you need?”

Harry startles and stares at the guy hanging over the circulation desk, who’s clearly been watching him as he’s been wandering around the library in confusion.

“Err,” Harry flushes. “It’s just, I sent my paper to the printer? But I can’t find it?”

“Oh,” the guy says and disappears behind the counter, only to pop back up a moment later, clutching a messy sheaf of papers. “Is this it?” He looks at the top page, “ _Death of a Dream: The Importance of Place in_ _ Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas _ _._ You sent it to the wrong printer.”

“Shit, sorry,” Harry says, “And yeah, that’s mine.” Harry reaches out his hand and the guy — Man? Are they men now? — shoves the papers into his hand.

“Interesting title,” the guy observes and Harry can’t help noticing that he is, _hmmm_ , attractive.

_Very_ attractive.

Harry looks down at the paper and carefully taps the pages on the surface of the counter to get them aligned just so.

“You an English major?” and it hits Harry that this guy is trying to _talk_ to him, so he lets a smile slide over his face, the one that showcases his dimples, and leans in.

_**2.** _

“What do you need?”

Harry can feel Louis’s eyes on him as he looks at the menu board, a bit overwhelmed by the large variety of egg choices.  He doesn’t think he’s ever even _had_ a poached egg, and to be honest, he’s not entirely sure what the poaching process entails. And what the hell is Hollandaise sauce?

He turns to meet eyes that are the exact same color as the Caribbean ocean in one of his favorite photos that he’s ever taken, and catches his breath. This moment, it feels weighty. Important. It feels like he’s crossed the border into a new land, with unfamiliar terrain. Like he’s taking the first steps on a journey that may very well change the course of his life.

Louis gives him a slightly quizzical look and Harry realizes the question is still hanging between them.

“I don’t know,” he says with a smile. “Why don’t you help me pick?”

**_3._ **

“What do you need?”

Harry’s voice is scratchy from sleep, his hair is a mess, and he’s squinting in the light from the hallway that shines into his dark dorm room. It’s 3:00 in the morning, and Harry is clearly a bit befuddled to find Louis at his door.

Louis tries to explain, but he’s exhausted and halfway to drunk. He’d been sitting on the roof of the house with Zayn and Liam, shooting the shit, when it had hit him, out of the blue, that he was in exactly the _wrong_ place. He’d run here, to Harry, almost as if on autopilot, and now he’s leaning over, trying to catch his breath and find the words.

“You,” he gasps, and reaches up to grab a fistful of Harry’s cheerful stripy pajama top and yank him into the hallway, “I need you,” and as he kisses Harry with everything he’s got inside of him, he feels Harry start to smile against his lips.

**_4._ **

“What do you need?”

“Uggh,” Harry groans, collapsing onto the couch that they’ve just hauled up three flights of stairs. “That’s it, that’s the last of it.”

Niall lays down on the floor next to him and just moans pathetically. It’s 90 degrees Fahrenheit, 85% humidity, and there’s no air conditioning in the apartment, so they’ve got the windows wide open and the fans blowing, trying to stave off heat exhaustion as they move in. Harry grins up at Louis who tips his beer to him in a teasing salute.

“Just one of those, if you don’t mind, babe,” he says and Louis snorts.

“What’s mine is yours, darling,” and Harry’s eyes widen at what that implies.

Louis hands him the beer that he’s grabbed from the fridge, and Harry looks around at their friends, strewn about the apartment like lettuce gone limp in the heat. He surveys the sum total of all of his possessions, still in boxes, thinks of the work it’s going to take to put this home together, the job he’s starting next week, and grins, taking a sip. He sighs in relief as he feels the cool liquid slide down his throat.  Then Louis lands on the couch next to him, and Harry yanks him into a hug, ignoring Louis’s squawk of disgust at their sweaty state.

“Welcome home, baby,” he says, and kisses him, just once. There’s time for that later, Harry thinks with satisfaction, drinking more beer, all the time in the world, but for now. This is perfect.

**_5._ **

“What do you need?”

Louis pulls roughly on Harry’s hair and he moans, overwhelmed, sinking down into the sensation as Louis pounds into him. He’s face-down on their faded patchwork quilt, clutching the slats of the iron headboard, ass in the air, biting the pillow to keep from screaming.

“Unhh… unhh…” he grunts as Louis moves, snapping his hips again and again. “I don’t… fuck, Lou, I _can’t.”_

“You can,” Louis insists, his tone almost stern and Harry can barely gather his thoughts enough to wonder how Louis’s holding it so together, fucking him as hard as he is. Why isn’t he out of breath, as much of a mess as Harry is?

“Come on,” Louis gasps, and oh, there it is, the edge of control in his voice Harry was looking for, “Harry, you _can,_ just fucking _let go.”_

Louis keeps moving and Harry can feel it building, feels the rough iron of the bedframe biting into his fingers as he clings, closes his eyes and listens to the rhythm of the bed shuddering under Louis’s thrusts until, like a wave breaking, his orgasm crashes over him and he comes, untouched.

**_6._ **

“What do you need?”

Harry’s voice is anxious and Louis knows he’s worrying because they really do have to get going. It would truly be poor form to be late for this event.

Louis pats his pockets, glances in the hallway mirror and grins. Harry comes up behind him and hooks his chin over Louis’s shoulder, and together, they examine themselves. Classic black tuxes, fresh haircuts, clean-shaven. Louis can see the same excitement he feels deep in his belly dancing in Harry’s eyes where they meet in the mirror. He feels the crackle of the license in his inside breast pocket, the weight of the small box in his waistcoat.

“Got everything I need right here, darling,” he says, and taking a deep breath, he grabs Harry’s hand and walks him to the door, ready to start the rest of their lives. “Let’s go.”

**_7._ **

“What do you need?”

Harry’s voice is panicked and Louis takes a deep breath.

“I don’t know, I don’t fucking know,” he hisses, “Do we call ambulance? She’s burning up.”

He holds their daughter, tiny and feverish, wipes the damp cloth across her face as she cries.

“I know, I know, baby,” he hums, trying to get her to calm down a bit, but she takes a deep  breath and then screams again, before gagging and spitting up down his front. “Oh, sweetheart,” he whispers, “it’s okay.”

“I’m calling the nurse,” Harry says, and as he turns to go, he rests one hand on Louis’s back, just for a moment, and Louis takes a deep breath, wishing desperately that there were a grownup to be found somewhere in this lovely three bedroom ranch in the suburbs, the perfect place to raise their daughter, who’s now turned an alarming shade of purple as she wails. There isn’t, of course, there’s only the two of them, scared and exhausted, but when Harry touches him, Louis realizes he’s not in this alone, and somehow, that makes all the difference.

**_8._ **

“What do you need?”

Louis is standing on the front porch and he turns the full force of his glare on Harry before realizing who he’s looking at, and his gaze softens.

“To _not_ go punch that _dick_ of a kid. Lily’s upstairs, heartbroken. Apparently Tommy decided today that he’s taking Alicia Wilkens to prom instead of her.”

As Harry walks up the steps and brushes by him to go comfort his undoubtedly-sobbing daughter, he presses a quick kiss to Louis’s shoulder.

“No punching the sixteen year olds, darling,” he says, and heads into the house, letting the screen door slam behind him. “It’s just not allowed.”

He hears Louis’s grumbles fade behind him as he makes his way upstairs to where he can hear Lily sobbing and sighs. He’d like to throw a punch or two himself, but someone’s got to be the reasonable one here.

**_9._ **

“What do you need?”

Harry’s voice from the doorway is soft, rough from weeping, shot through with pain, but Louis has nothing available for him. He’s curled up on the floor where he’d fucking _dropped_ when he’d gotten the text. He’s beyond words right now, his world ripped in two and tears feel trivial. He wants to tear out his hair, wants to howl out his rage, but he can’t find the breath, it’s been knocked out of him.

Harry had answered his call with a cheerful “Hey babe,” and when Louis had managed to choke the message out, he’d said only, “I’m turning around, I’ll be there soon.”

Harry comes into the room, sets his briefcase on the coffee table, and lies down next to Louis, wraps him up in strong arms and just holds on, and Louis breaks.

**_10._ **

“What do you need?”

Louis doesn’t look up from his phone when he asks the question, knows he sounds disinterested, but Harry’s been tearing apart the kitchen for fifteen minutes now, and his under-breath grumblings are sounding more and more annoyed, and Louis can’t ignore it any longer.

“My fucking charger,” Harry snaps. “I left it right here last night and it’s fucking gone. I swear to god, I bet Lily’s hoarding it upstairs like some kind of fucking _dragon,_ like a… a…   _charger_  dragon.”

Louis’s laugh is surprised out of him as he listens to Harry stomp upstairs and bang on Lily’s door. He pictures their daughter, curled protectively around a pile of chargers and laughs again, for the first time in weeks.

**_11._ **

“What do you need?”

“Nothing.”

**_12._ **

“What do you need?”

Louis looks up in surprise at the question. There’s a man lounging — and there’s really no other word for it — in his doorway. Louis racks his brain,  and oh, that’s right. Jason Edmonton, new junior partner in Louis’s department. Showy as fuck, sharp as a tack, and equipped with a dangerous and dry sense of humor. Louis eyes the curves on display and sighs. He’s easy on the eyes for sure.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been holed up all day, I was just wondering if you… needed anything?" He cocks a hip in invitation. "I’m going to Starbucks.”

Louis shakes his head and their eyes catch and hold for a beat. A moment. Too long.

“I’m good, don’t want anything.” He stands and quickly begins shoving papers into his briefcase. “In fact, I’ve got to get home.”

**_13._ **

“What do you need?”

Harry looks up in surprise at the question from where he’s rummaging in the spice cabinet.

“What are you doing here?” His voice isn’t angry, flat, maybe just a bit curious.

“I live here.” Louis moves into the kitchen, sets his keys down on the counter. “Why so suspicious?”

“You haven’t  been home before 9:00 in weeks, Lou. I just wasn’t expecting you.” He shuts the cabinet with a bang and grabs his own keys off the counter. “I’ve got to run to the store, I’ll be back in thirty.”

As the back door slams behind him, Louis grips the back of the kitchen chair and whispers, “Don’t go.”

**_14._ **

“What do you need?”

Louis sits on the edge of the bed, rests his hand on  Harry’s back, feeling him shake as he cries.

“What is it, babe? Talk to me?”

Harry rolls over and it hits Louis like a punch that he hasn’t looked at Harry like this in weeks, months maybe. It’s like his gaze has just… danced over Harry like a skipping stone until it finally sinks into the water, somewhere else. Somewhere that’s not Harry. He couldn’t even begin to say what it is that he’s been looking at.

“Are you cheating on me?”

“What?” Horrified, Louis stares at him.

“You heard me.” Harry closes his eyes. He’s pale, shadows under his eyes. He needs a haircut.

“What, no. _No._ Why would you think that?”

"Because you’ve been. I don’t know.” Harry opens his eyes, wipes them roughly. “You’ve been somewhere else, Lou. For months now. Working late, distracted. We barely talk these days. You haven’t touched me in weeks, not even to kiss me when you get home. We haven’t had sex in months.”

Louis closes his eyes. “My god. Oh, Harry.” He feels a tear overflow, begin to work its way down his cheek. “No, _no,_ I’m not cheating on you. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Then where have you been?” Harry’s voice breaks. “God, Lou, it’s killing me, I’ve been so worried. Where _are_ you?”

“I’m here,” Louis says, and realizes, he’s not entirely sure that’s true. “I’m right here. I think…” He opens his eyes, looks down at Harry, at that beloved face, takes in the glint of grey in his hair, the lines on his forehead. He clears his throat, tries again. “I think I need help.”

**_15._ **

“What do you need?”

The question hangs heavy in the room, this small and cozy office where Louis’s been coming after work, twice a week now for a few months. Harry sits next to him, one arm wrapped around him, the other reaching across his own body to hold Louis’s hand and Louis struggles to take a breath.

“I need,” he gasps, a sob breaking free, “I need…”

Harry squeezes his hand, holds him close, and Louis lets himself lean.

“I need my mom,” he finally says and he feels Harry shudder beside him. “I miss her so fucking much.”

He turns to Harry. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers, and Harry just shakes his head, tears running down his cheeks as he lets go of Louis’s hand to reach up and tuck a wayward strand of hair behind Louis's ear.

“Don’t,” Harry says softly. “You don’t have to apologize for this.”

**_16._ **

“What do you need?”

Louis hurls the question like a weapon and Harry catches it, throws it right back at him.

“I need a fucking break. I _get_ it, Lou. I _get_ that you’re sad, I _get_ that you’re grieving, but you’re not the only person here. You’re not the only person who lost someone they loved. I can’t keep doing this by myself. I need you to _be here_ with me.”

Louis gasps, and then tries to pause.  Takes a breath. Tries to hear what Harry is saying.

“I’m sorry,” he says finally. “I’m sorry I forgot to take the trash out. I’ll try to do better.” He thinks for a moment. “I’ll put a reminder in my phone.”

Harry freezes, and then takes a breath too, lets it out in a noisy sigh. “Okay.”

**_17._ **

“What do you need?”

Harry pauses, his coat halfway on. “I was just going to the store, we’re out of half and half. Thought I’d pick up some salmon for dinner.” There’s a moment of silence where they look at each other, and then Harry says cautiously, “Would you like to come with me?”

**_18._ **

“What do you need?”

Louis grins at Harry, looks out the open door to where the Caribbean shimmers in the glow of the setting sun. He thinks of the past, of the pain and the loss, the work they’ve done to rebuild, the weight of years that have brought them here. He aches for a moment, and then brings himself back. He crosses the room to pull Harry into a tight embrace, gives him a lingering kiss, a promise for later.

“Nothing, love,” he says, his heart overflowing, “I’ve got everything I need right here.”

**Author's Note:**

> _This fic contains references to parenting (including an infant being sick and spitting up); to grief, loss and depression, and ensuing relational issues. There is no cheating in this fic._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for reading! This fic was a writing challenge for myself to try and limit the “telling” of the story as much as possible. Let me know if you think it worked! 
> 
> Feel free to [come say hi on Tumblr!](http://phd-mama.tumblr.com/) If you enjoyed this, the rest of my stuff can be [found here!](http://archiveofourown.org/users/phdmama/works)
> 
> I appreciate every kudos and comment so much, so thank you!
> 
> Also - feel free to share this [rebloggable Tumblr post](https://phd-mama.tumblr.com/post/175721665273/the-depth-and-the-breadth-and-the-height)!!


End file.
